


waste.

by caticoo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Game Spoilers, M/M, Oma Kokichi (mentioned), One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Post-Game(s), Smoking, delete later probably /, its in a setting where uh. danganronpa is a gameshow but the deaths arent real., or you can think of it as not it... depends?, so uhh yeah., vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 07:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12476392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caticoo/pseuds/caticoo
Summary: you know you're wasting away, wasting your days.





	waste.

**Author's Note:**

> uwatata...  
> i know i don't usually do canon stuff but ummm . . . i sort of felt like doing this. i'll probably delete this later.

A reminder blares on his phone: _go to church_. Ah, that's right. It had been Sunday.

He says had been, because the sun had already burned itself out. Saihara had chosen to waste his Sunday sleeping, among the dirty sheets of his apartment. Sheets that were stained with the misery of useless orgasms right before he was dragged by the neck, heavily, into slumber — he wouldn't have done it beforehand, but nowadays seemed more lonely than ever. As if all of the deaths that had taken place in the misery of the fictional academy that the students were placed in to kill one another splattered into the real world. Which was ludicrous — there was no way any authority would allow a game show to kill people like flies. No, Danganronpa was all its own fiction — in that fiction, Saihara was the main character. He was the tragic boy with a scarring event ever since the first "chapter" — stepping up to become the "new" protagonist after Kaede had died so early on. This was one of many reasons why he garnered such a large fan-base — other reasons included his composed nature, his beautiful face, his ability to solve crimes. This was the Shuuichi Saihara the world saw — he bet that every single one of his fans would cringe and look the other way if they saw who he actually was.

Although most of his coworkers acted as their "usual" selves when they were on set (for example, Angie was still faithful to Atua even beyond the cameras — although she did not believe she was his vessel, like she overexaggerated on the show to add to her character. It was Angie who encouraged Saihara to go to a religious deity to find his "inner peace", but the fact he was not even encouraged enough to get out of bed that evening was proof that such a route was not for him,) Saihara thought of himself as different than the Saihara on the screen. The public's view of Saihara was an intelligent, witty, and logical young man who was quite possibly everything you wanted in a main character. The _real_ Saihara was just a wallowing pit of depression — now addicted to the taste of cigar against his lips, finding exhaust in masturbation and being incredibly selfish despite all the popularity he received on social media. That was the Saihara that nobody saw — only Saihara knew this Saihara. When he was in public meetings, the way he acted was different — he smiled, thanked fans, posed and was grateful for his position. Being the fan-voted most popular character came with the luxury of always having attention garnered onto you. But it was exhausting, when you realized they loved the character you portrayed, and not yourself.

The only person he felt cared was his coworker, and that was only because he caught him crying once.

Being the second most popular character, Saihara and Ouma were often seen with each other. They had the largest amount of fans, and while most people seemed to adore both of them equally, Saihara felt like Ouma was by far more popular. After all, his character had remained an enigma until his fateful death in "chapter five" — many people held speculations and questions about his true intentions. Forums upon forums piled online, on Reddit, Tumblr, Twitter — constant posts about how young fans "loved Ouma Kokichi." Saihara was not jealous of this attention. He got the exact same treatment, as young fans would also Tweet out at him "I love you Shuuichi! <3" and all Saihara could do was ignore it, as these sorts of messages came to him more than 500 times a day. It nearly got to the point in which he almost deleted all of his social media, until his agent decided to take over for him and handle it all.

Sometimes, however, he liked the attention — but when it was with Ouma.

Shipping was a thing that everyone that watched Danganronpa did — it was difficult not to, with all the tensions running high, and the possible opportunities for fanfiction or fanart. Sometimes Saihara would curiously peek into the tag with him and Ouma in it (he could never remember their "ship name"), and gaze at all the fan art portraying a relationship that was much deeper than canon had ever divulged. The wish that some people desired to come true, but was far too late now — the show was over, fictional Ouma Kokichi was dead, and there was no way that "Saihara Shuuichi x Kokichi Ouma" would be considered a dream come true. Fans seemed to be satisfied, however, with the extra shorts of Love Hotel Scenes (something that Team Danganronpa did purely for fanservice, but this seemed to fly over the fans' heads), small interactions the two shared in the show, and the fact that fictional Ouma acted differently with fictional Saihara. Perhaps that was morphing into the real world, as crazy and ridiculous as that honestly sounded.

But it was true. Ouma Kokichi was much less of a liar outside the camera-room — he was more genuine with his feelings, but still the outgoing person he was on screen. His emotions changed a lot, and even still you couldn't quite tell sometimes how he felt. Saihara's fictional self leaked into his real self, and he genuinely began to get interested in getting to know Ouma — thankfully it was much easier to get to know the real him. Ouma opened up easier than he would of as a fictional character, admitting to calling his fanbase members of "DICE" and admitting he hated the idea of killing anyone. Ouma played around here and there and pulled pranks on the cast outside of shooting, but it was not constantly like fictional Ouma — and Saihara was still figuring him out, too. He was an interesting boy — a cute interesting boy — and Saihara would be lying if he said he didn't want to try and kiss him, especially after he saw him in a sobbing mess in his dressing room.

The topic would be sealed away in an embarrassing stories section of Saihara's mind, but remembering the genuine care in Ouma's voice caused him to be hit with the waves of a crush. Time was only spent more and more with one and the other, until, pretty soon, they planned on meeting each other daily — the paparazzi freaked out after this began, and they begun to be known around Hollywood as the "will-they-won't-they" couple. But the way Ouma acted around all the other guys — Kaito, Amami, Kiibo (who was, indeed, an ordinary human being, who just played a robot) — was one in the same with Saihara. There was no difference between the way Ouma looked at him to the way he looked at any of the other guys he coworked with. Saihara was sure there were _more_ men he was checking out in different places too, handling his own side jobs. Saihara knew he had a chance, as Ouma had announced several times on talk-shows that he was, in fact, a homosexual. But did Ouma really like him the same way he did in Danganronpa? In a fictional world?

Saihara escaped the warm prison of his bedsheets, and scrambled tiredly into his drawer — feeling for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He glanced at his alarm-clock, which blared a bright-green " _12:03 AM_ ". The actor grunted, made his way towards his balcony and opened up, meeting the cool air that slapped him awake, by a slight. He observed the city lights underneath him — showing off neon colors and shapes and sizes, advertising casinos and strip clubs and shows and hotels. A city life was a flashy life, and he wondered momentarily what it would be like to settle down a little and move somewhere where smoking on a balcony just didn't fit. That, instead of standing outside and puffing poison into his lungs, he could watch the flowers bloom into something better — someone to hug him from behind, wish him a good morning. Someone to wake up against, to eat breakfast with affectionately and kiss goodbye for work. The person he imagined was Ouma.

Saihara sighed, pulled a cigar out of the box and tossed the rest onto a nearby chair. The lighter flicked — _once, twice_  — until the end of his cigar caught flame, and he was puffing delicious delight into his breath. Another sigh, and this time, a cloud of smoke escaped his graying lips — a mutter following, saying, _What am I doing anymore?_ He wished someone was here to smack this cigarette out of his hand and replaced the disgusting smell on his lips with the feel of their own (again, the person he imagined was Ouma), until he realized that, too, was fantasy.

He inhaled again, puffed out, and continued to waste away until he felt like he'd decay himself enough for the night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> time: 40 minutes.
> 
> thanks for reading, loves . ✧


End file.
